We sprout up boldly through the cracks
yielding beauty that the sidewalk lacks
and spread our sunshine-bright yellow smiles.
No other flowers can mimic our style.
They call us weeds, but we’re a gift
sent from heaven to brighten and uplift
the sad gray atmosphere.
No other flowers dare to grow around here.
If you would stop and simply see
our beauty compared to the misery--
the dirt and pieces of broken glass
and useless things that litter the grass,
you would not see us as simply weeds
but as something that a city needs.
Yes, we smile defiantly every day
and flash our smiles to boldly display
the joy that comes from simple things.
We are a song, and if you listen,
we sing.
©1994 Tiffany Gholar
6 comments:
This was my first published poem, written in 1994 when I was 15 years old.
I like this a lot. Lately I've had trouble reading a lot of rhymed verse but this really works.
Thanks so much, Afiori. I really appreciate that.
I like this poem too.
I like the "We" that opens the poem a lot. Not they, but we! I like being a weed :-) That's cool.
God's beauty is faithful, is it not?
Pleasure to have found ya'!
What a neat idea! Thank you for sharing this poem with us.
NathanKP - Imagination Manifesto
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